


Saturdays

by sapphicimplosion



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Funeral, M/M, Rafe dies, Sam is sappy, This is kinda short sorry I got lazy and sad, classic Angst, i miss rafe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25141915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphicimplosion/pseuds/sapphicimplosion
Summary: Saturday’s used to be Sam’s favourite day of the week. It was the one day Rafe would stay in and cuddle with him till noon and they’d watch the sunrise together.Now with Rafe gone, Sam dreads the coming of a Saturday.So it’s ironic that Rafe’s funeral is held on one.
Relationships: Rafe Adler & Samuel Drake, Rafe Adler/Samuel Drake
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	Saturdays

**Author's Note:**

> Hi yet another Sam and Rafe angst fic, god I miss them. I haven’t proofread this one either so again apologies for any typos!

Saturday's were normally Sam's favorite days of the week. It was the one day that Rafe decided to sleep in, and take some time off his schedule and they'd stay cuddled up all morning, limbs entangled, Rafe's head buried in Sam's chest, his lips parted as he snored lightly. 

Sam would usually be up a little earlier, and he'd watch the sun rise from the window of their bedroom, the rays of sunlight peaking from behind the distant mountain peaks, tainting the whole room in a warm orange, Rafe held tightly in his arms. Slowly, Rafe would stir in his sleep, and smile at Sam, and they'd both watch as the sun travelled from between the Mountains and over the hills, smooth and graceful. 

Now it was the day he despised most. As the sun began to crawl up above the mountain peaks once more, he glanced at his bed. 

Rafe's side was empty, still in perfect form because Sam had refused to touch it, in fear that he'd lose Rafe's essence. In fear that if Rafe somehow magically came back, he'd get upset at Sam for ruining his bed. The faint smell of his cologne still hung off of it, a vague mix of mint and pinewood. 

Sam sighed, running his hands through his hair. Memories of Rafe flashed through his mind whether it was him making pancakes in nothing but his boxers, singing under his breath and dancing inconspicuously to the music Sam was playing or him tackling Sam to the ground when he found him secretly watching from behind the living room wall, to cover up his own embarrassment. 

He got up to go take a shower and get dressed.

****  
Sam stood in front of the floor length mirror of his room, straightening out his suit. His mind was numb, a hollow paradox, and he wanted to keep it that way. It kept it stable, made it easier to deal with the emotions, the trauma he'd faced over the last few days. 

Sam was never good with losing people he loved. It'd taken him years to cope with the passing of his mother, the tribulations of which had slowly carried over into his present habits in his adult life. 

The cotton of his button up shirt stung his still very fresh wound, the fabric grazing against the torn flesh like granite but he didn't mind. He liked the pain, found comfort in it. It kept him feeling something, something, anything. It kept him from going insane. He'd finally brushed his messy hair, pulling and slicking it back so it was neatly kept in place. A small smile tickled his lips as he thought about how much Rafe would've teased him if he saw him like this.

Rafe.

A shudder instinctively floated over Sam, seizing every single one of his limbs. Rafe suddenly invaded his mind, Rafe's eyes and their soft green, despite them being cold and harsh to everyone other than Sam, Rafe's grin and how rare it was but man was it a sight for the gods, Rafe's laugh, a melody that Sam could only describe as nicotine for the ears, a sound he was addicted to and wanted to replay forever, listen to forever.

Tears pricked the corner of his eyes but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn't let Rafe and the promise he'd made to him back on Avery's ship down. He wouldn't let his memory live on in vain. 

The sun beamed in defiance to Sam's mood, the sunlight casting a blanket of life over the gloomy setting of the room.  
***  
The funeral was as all funerals are.

Sam was a little taken back by the amount of people present at the venue, and although he tried his best to maintain his composure, it made him more angry than anything else in the world. These people barely knew Rafe, probably despised him, used him. And yet when it was time to empathize with him they were suddenly the first ones to show up to Raphael Adler's funeral, a man which Sam knew many of them did not like in the slightest.

How dare they pollute his memorial. 

Sam would've stormed over to the large grouping of corporate rascals standing by the buffet and given them a piece of his mind if it wasn't for the sight of a casket being brought out that caught his eye. 

The coffin, made of a dark wood, was accented in gold framing along with a gold plate that had the words Raphael Adler carved into it in seamless cursive handwriting. Sam felt the immense urge to run over to the casket and pull open the lid only to get a glance of Rafe's face. 

The last time he'd seen it, it was practically black and blue, yet somehow looked as if it'd been drained of all life, eyes blank yet flowing with tears, limp arms grasping at Sam's shoulders, begging him to leave before the ship blew up and took them both down. 

It was the first time he'd seen such desperation on Rafe's face, and to think that the last thing he would remember of Sam was how he betrayed him.

God he was such a fool.

Ignoring the sudden tightening of his chest and the urge he had to scream, Samuel kept a blank face as he approached the priest.

***  
The drive back home was excruciating. Nate was silent, and Sam could tell by the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel that he felt overwhelmed by guilt. Heck, even Sam didn't blame him, not as much as he blamed himself. In the end, it was inevitably his fault, his fault that Rafe and Nate ended up fighting, his fault that Rafe almost killed Nate, his fault that Rafe died himself. 

The air was so heavy with unspoken words Sam felt as if his head was going to explode. 

The sun was still high, shining in opposition to what Sam was feeling. Sam felt angry at the world, angry at how it could continue to be so happy and full of life when he felt so empty and alone. 

It was sunny that whole week.

God I hate Saturdays.


End file.
